


Best Wishes to A Little Blood

by novelteas



Series: I Will Be Here [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Injury, M/M, World Cup 2014, germany vs ghana 2014, i really like thinking about poor Thomas and Miro next to him so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-03-30 22:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3953386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novelteas/pseuds/novelteas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas is hurt after the game against Ghana, and Miro wants him to be okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Wishes to A Little Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Basically I just really wanted to write a Kloser fic so here . . . also it's kind of weird but whatever. Hope you enjoy. I guess. Yeah. Kudos and comment if you want, feedback makes me better. Thanks!

"You kick it," Thomas says, pointing at the goal as he glances at Toni next to him. "I'll head it in. Simple enough?"

Toni nods, making a few more vague gestures. "I'll aim close to center for you." He backs up to where he's kicking from as the referee is talking to Ghana's defence and centres the ball, calling to Thomas and making signals while Ghana is still distracted. Then the referee stands back, blows the whistle, the players move forward, and Toni takes the kick, sending it sailing to where it'll hopefully meet Thomas. 

Thomas jumps for the header, but John Boye makes it there first by a lucky quick reaction, and Thomas knows, a moment before it actually happens, that there will be a collision. He throws his hands forward, trying to slow it, but he slams his face against Boye's shoulder anyway, and then the slow motion stops and he feels everything back in real time as he falls to the ground.

It's a terrifying moment, he thinks, as he's lying there and hoping he doesn't black out because it hurts a lot at that moment and he's not quite sure if the stars in his eyes are because of the open air above him or because he's hit his head that hard or if it's because he's actually going to pass out. But the feeling passes, the slight numbness with it too, and Thomas realises that the wet sensation on his face is in fact, not sweat, and that he should really check to see what that is. He lifts a hand to his face, feeling the warm blood dribbling down at an alarming rate which is enough to make him feel slightly faint because that's really a disturbing rate at which the blood is draining considering what just happened, and so decides he'd better sit up and go find something to wipe it off with.

He's just rolling up into a sitting position as Miro turns around - thank God, maybe Miro will tell him it's not that bad - but a look of concern passes over Miro's face, and his eyes get all worried and alarmed. He hurries towards Thomas, waving a hand for medical attention, and pushes him back down so he won't faint from all the blood dripping down his ridiculously childish face. "Hey, take it easy," he offers, cradling Thomas's head in his hands even though Thomas is insisting that he's fine. 

Thomas is glad that he's got blood all over his face, because it actually is hiding a slight blush that he feels with Miro actually caring about him. Since Miro left Bayern, Thomas misses him more than he thinks is reasonable. It's been nearly three whole years, for God's sake, and Thomas thinks he should've gotten over it, but this - Miro with worry in his eyes and knitted brows and oh God, Thomas thinks, he's really losing it, a light caress at his hair and where the blood is all coming from - this makes him remember how much he really likes Miro. Yeah, it hurts like Hell and Thomas can't hide the wince that brings even more alarm to Miro's face, but this is like one of those cinematic moments where the main protagonist dies in someone close's arms.

"Does it hurt?" he asks, eyebrows raised enquiringly. He places a hand on Thomas's chest and rolls him over, because Thomas looks in danger of gagging from the pain, but Thomas resists the effort and they end up staring at each other. Thomas . . . Thomas feels relaxed doing this, like he could just let Miro take care of him forever. Miro, on the other hand, is full of urgent panic because Thomas could really die. Okay, maybe not die, Miro negotiates, but head injuries are serious and he really hopes the blood is only because of a cut and not because Thomas's skull has somehow fractured and ruptured five million capillaries and a huge blood vessel and causing hemorrhaging - 

"I'm fine," Thomas lies, just because okay, maybe Miro making the concernedly lost puppy-dog face is bringing a slight smile to his face (even though it also hurts to smile). He melts into the touch of Miro's calming left hand on his shoulder and his right hand cupping his face, and even forces the aforementioned smile the tiniest bit just to make Miro relax. "Besides, looks like the medical squad arrived."

As he gets up, Miro gives Thomas a look that reminds him of the kind of look his mom gave him whenever she wanted him to clean his room, claps the staff on the shoulder, and gestures over his shoulder at the bench. "I'll wait for you, okay?"

Thomas makes a weak nod and then gasps with a wince as the team's doctor swipes a disinfectant over the wound, clearing off all the blood within a few minutes. The severity of the wound is revealed now, even as it still keeps bleeding. "It's not deep," the doctor says, "but it'll need stitches; you'll have to go to the hospital." They help him up, and Thomas subconsciously makes a beeline for Miro, tissue in hand to wipe off the blood from his face.

"You okay?" Miro queries again, as they follow the rest of the team to the locker rooms. Thomas feels a thrill race up his spine and leave him momentarily breathless as Miro's fingers gently trail on his back as he places a guiding hand there. 

Thomas nods. "Hospital," he says. "See you back at the hotel?"

Miro smiles. "Yeah," he says, relieved that Thomas is okay. "See you then."

• 

Thomas is in Philipp's room when Miro gets a call from said captain. "He's in my room, since I honestly don't trust him to stay alive any other way. You're the only other responsible person I know I can trust one hundred percent, because Manu was going to be the other one, but he was busy either smirking at Chris or he's out looking for Nutella. Anyway, I'm going out with Claudia, bit of celebration, and I need you to make sure he doesn't die, because if I leave anyone else in charge, he probably will. Either that or he'll be doing something ridiculous that will call for a sobriety test."

Miro nods through the phone, even though Philipp can't see him. "Will do. Does he need help getting here?"

There's a pause on the other end. "He says he doesn't," Philipp says, lowering his voice. "He does. I only asked him because otherwise he'd say I wasn't giving him a chance." Philipp covers his phone with his hand again and there's muffled yelling that Miro can hear, that sounds suspiciously like, "Stop shit-talking, you know you can't even walk two steps from the drugs." His voice becomes clear again as Philipp uncovers the phone. "He got stitches and he's on drugs right now. Lisa's out with a prior engagement with a few friends, so I can't get her to take care of him; I told him we'd be fine."

"Idiot," Miro teases. "I bet she couldn't believe you were willing to take drugged up Mul under your wing. I'm coming over now to drag him to my room, then. I'll hang up."

Philipp opens the door for Miro before he can even knock. "Perfect, thanks," he says, letting him in. Claudia's stretched out on one of the sofas, reading a book, and Thomas is lying on the other one with a dazed expression and staring at the television, making irrelevant comments every other second, to which both Claudia and Philipp make sympathetic humming sounds every so often. 

"Hello, Miro," Claudia says, looking up as Miro enters the room. She closes the book, marking her place and skidding it across the coffee table. "Thanks so much."

"It's no problem," he says graciously, letting the tips of his fingers linger on Thomas's shoulder. Thomas is too distracted to notice the touch. "Have a nice time out."

"Make sure you turn off the light when you leave," Philipp says, pocketing his wallet and opening the door for Claudia.

The door snaps shut behind them, and Miro sits down next to Thomas on the edge of the sofa. "Hey. Thomas." He turns off the television, bringing Thomas's attention around, and pushes him into a sitting position. "We're gonna go to my room, okay?"

"Okay," Thomas says, sitting up dazedly. Miro spends a few precious moments remembering this look on Thomas's face, because the probability of Thomas ever looking this defenseless and innocently oblivious ever again is quite low, and he wants to remember this. 

They get to Miro's room with surprisingly little difficulty, and Thomas is still so vulnerable that it is impossible for Miro to leave him for more than three seconds, so they sit on his sofa together with the television on.

It's a moment Miro will never share with the rest of the team, and something Thomas will hide away in the back of his mind as a dream-state, never fully, actually happening, except for that one wisp of a fuzzy, drugged memory, when Miro had his arms around him, not as a celebrating teammate. A single moment of tenderness that Thomas reaches back to grab when they've separated and Thomas is back at Bayern. A single moment of love that Miro remembers, smiles nostalgically about, and nods a fraction of an inch at when he's at Lazio, and they are miles apart.


End file.
